Forgotten
by Osidiano
Summary: Ficlet for a January 7th, 2014 challenge; prompt was "Things you need to forget." Kaoru struggles to understand her situation after losing her memories during Mana's mindbreak.
**Forgotten**

He was brushing her hair, gently working last night's tangles out with deft, practiced fingers, when she finally asked about the others.

"Are they my brothers?"

Kuga paused, a frown tugging at his lips. His hands came to rest on her delicate shoulders. He was the only one who ever touched her, she had noticed. The other men that Kaoru lived with kept odd hours and though she rarely saw them, it seemed as if they held themselves at a distance from her.

Kaoru did not actually think that those men were her brothers. One was much too tall and dark, all grinning teeth and loud barking laughter. Another was practically a shadow-whisper, the curvature of his face and eyes betraying a mixed ethnicity that she did not share. The third, fully Japanese, had wild dark hair and spoke with a heavy Kansai accent. Kaoru was small and delicate, black eyes in a pale face. She had long wavy blonde hair and foreign cheekbones.

Only Kuga looked anything like her, an East-West mix with broad shoulders and a slim waist.

". . . No. You are an only child," he answered at last. The tangles were all out now, and he began to braid. It felt familiar, like something she had asked him to do many times before in that past that she could not remember.

If the other men in the home were not her brothers, then perhaps they were _his_ relatives, some distant cousins that they lived with. Kaoru looked down at her skirt, at the intricate black lace and petticoats. It was something that he had said she used to wear. Her legs looked long and naked to her; she wondered if she normally wore it with stockings.

"I am an only child," she repeated. Kuga made a small affirmative sound behind her. He was tying a ribbon in her hair. "Where is my mother?"

He stopped again, hands frozen. She sat very still and waited, listening to him breathing. Kuga was a very calm man, somber and controlled. If he had been nervous or made uncomfortable by her questions, she could never tell.

After a long moment, he said, "She died. It was a long time ago."

"How did she die?"

He finished with the ribbon and reached for a necklace on the vanity. "She was stabbed."

"Were we close?"

"No," came his immediate response. She wished he had hesitated. Kuga fastened the necklace around her neck, a small dark stone sparkling on her pale skin just below her collarbone. Kaoru reached up to touch it, to trace her fingers over the silver chain it hung from. She could see him in the vanity mirror, knew that blank expression well. He was always very closed off, very guarded with her. She hated it.

"What did I call you? Before," she asked, and watched his reflection closely. He raised a brow quizzically, but said nothing. She repeated it, clarifying, "What did I call you before my accident?"

 _My_ _accident_. She had been different before the event that stole away her memories; she knew that she must have, or they would not treat her this way. Her housemates would not give her that mournful look when she spoke to them, would not flinch at the way she said their names. But Kuga said nothing. Kaoru twisted in her seat at the vanity to look at him over her shoulder.

"Father?" she asked, and his eyes widened at this, lips parting slightly as if in shock. But 'father' did not feel like the word she would have used. Kaoru tried again. "Papa?"

Kuga stood abruptly, a new mask slamming into place like the gates at a castle. Her mouth trembled and her hands shook. She balled them into fists in her skirts to hide them. He looked down at her with anger, with a cold fury that seared her skin where his gaze crossed it. Kuga's voice was low and dangerous when he answered her:

"You called me Kuga."

He turned and stormed out of the room. Kaoru looked back to the vanity, confused. The door to her bedroom thudded heavily into the frame when he shut it. She knew that they had the same last name, so if he was not her father, then who was he to her?

Outside, Kuga pressed his back to the closed door, letting his knees give out slowly so that he slid down to a sitting position on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his grief.


End file.
